“I think,” she said, rubbing her nose against his sternum, “that you make a very good earl.”

“I’m still so new at it. I wish my father were here so I could ask him. Though, of course, if he was here, there’d be no need. He’d be the earl and doing a far better job of it.”

“You miss him.”

“At times like this, I do. And…” He stopped.

“And?”

“I’d have liked him to meet you. He’d have adored you.”

She was touched. “I’d have liked it, too.”

They stood quietly for a moment. The darkness was blanket-thick, both cover and comfort. When he touched her it came as a surprise.

“Your skin feels so smooth, so soft,” he said, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. Then he skimmed her waist until his hands rested on her hips, orienting himself to her. Anchoring her.

Oh, how she would miss this, not just the sex, but the way he brushed her skin with his fingertips, as though it was a fresh experience every time. The way he’d talk to her. Those charming little compliments that slipped from between his lips like sighs.

Waiting to be together tonight had been dragged out so long, and they were both so desperate, and yet, still, he took things slowly.

She felt the slight friction of his fingertips against the silk, felt the warmth of his skin through the sheer fabric, and wanted more.

She reached for him, finding his shoulders, putting her arms around his neck and pulling his head down until she could kiss him. She tasted toothpaste and a hint of scotch. As his mouth moved against hers and their chins brushed, she could tell that he was freshly shaven.

How thoughtful. All the parts of her that wouldn’t be getting chafed through close contact with his stubble tingled in anticipation. She opened her mouth to him, tasting him, nipping his lower lip. And all the time his hands were stroking her, exciting her through the silk. He traced the long muscles of her back. “Your muscles are tight. You seem really tense.”

“It’s been a long day. And that last hour was hell. I thought I’d have to drug Simon’s drink to get away.”

She moaned softly as he began kneading the knots in her shoulder. “Then my boss in L.A. wanted to chat. It’s late afternoon there and he wants to talk about new ideas for programming. While all I can think about is finding you and getting naked.” She kissed him. “All I can think about is this.”

“I know,” he said, his slow, soothing hands in odd contrast to the barely restrained need she recognized in his voice.

Even though her belly was growing heavy with desire and she ached to have him inside her, it felt so good to have him massaging away the day’s tensions that she leaned into his hands, like a cat being stroked. He spent a long time on her shoulders and her back, and then he moved-very sneakily in the dark-and she felt his hands at her stomach, so warm and sudden that she gasped. He stroked her belly as he had her back, long, soothing strokes that left her quivering and wanting. It was like the Kama Sutra of massage therapy.

It was so quiet here, so still and so dark that her senses were abnormally heightened. Without sight, she was aware of subtle sensations. The sound of their breathing, the slight rustle as her gown brushed her skin, the smell of George’s shaving cream on his freshly razored face, the feel of the ancient wooden wall at her back, and the firm warmth of George at her front.

When his questing fingers reached her naked thighs, he said, “You’re trembling.”

“I want you so much.”

“It’s different now, isn’t it? Now that I’ve declared myself.”

She smiled in the darkness. Such an old-fashioned expression, but it suited him.

“It’s partly knowing how we feel, I think, and also knowing we won’t see each other for a while. We have to make enough memories to last us a while.”

“How long?” he asked, running his lips along her jawline.

“A few weeks.” She clutched at him. “Shorter if I can manage it.”

“I don’t think I can bear to be away from you. We’ve barely begun to know each other.” His hands were urgent on her, tracing her thighs, squeezing her buttocks.

“I know.” She was so empty, so hot for him, waiting.

“Maybe I can come up and you can sneak me into your hotel room at the next location.”

She could barely take in his words. If she didn’t have him inside her soon, she’d explode. But the meaning finally sank in. “You’d do that? You’d drive all that way for one night?”

“I’d drive twice as far. You haven’t even gone yet and I miss you already.”

She smiled against his chest. “I know. I feel it, too.”

His hand was moving higher, and she parted her legs to give him ready access to where she wanted him most.

“Your skin is so soft here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft.”

“It’s arousal,” she panted. “Blood’s rushing to the capillaries.”

“Really?” His fingers paused, no doubt in surprise.

“I produced a documentary on sexual arousal one time. It’s amazing the facts you pick up.” She laughed softly.

“Let’s see if we can find any more signs of arousal,” he said in a low, teasing tone, letting his hand sweep higher.

She wanted to open up for him but her legs were shaking and she thought she might topple. He seemed to understand her dilemma, for he raised her knee and draped her leg over his elbow. She felt the air wafting across her privates and was so sensitive that even the slight movement of air felt like a caress.

Then he touched her and she let out a moan of pleasure. His fingers explored her with a deft, light touch, making her squirm.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered.

“I’m so desperately horny, you have no idea.”

“Oh, yes I do,” he said, and pushed a finger inside her.

“I want you,” she cried. “Can’t wait.”

He didn’t say anything, but she heard the rustle and tear of the condom package, then he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up. She opened her legs, wrapping them around his waist, and he pushed up and into her, shoving her against the cold wall. The shock of the cold wood paneling against her back was in sharp contrast to the heat coming off George. He took her fast and hard, and she took him right back, spread so wide that she felt the shock of impact right through her with every thrust.

Shudders rocked her. She felt that she was floating, with only the solid walls of the historic mansion and the solid arms of George holding her to earth.

When he came it was like an explosion inside her.

He staggered a little, and she clutched at his shoulders, wondering if they’d topple to the ground, but he recovered enough to let her down slowly.

They stood there, panting, leaning against each other until she whispered, “Your place or mine?”

“Let’s start in your bed and end up in mine.”

“Good plan,” she said, and led him back the way she’d come.

Her room seemed overbright when she flicked on a lamp. Her nearly packed suitcase sat by the door, a reminder, if they needed one, that this was good-bye for a while.

Sure, they’d be able to visit, but it wasn’t going to be the same. The fairy tale quality of living in his house and creeping to his room via secret passageway each night was over tomorrow. The next stage wouldn’t happen because of circumstance and convenience; they’d have to make a deliberate and extraordinary effort to keep seeing each other.

Would they? She wondered. As strong as her feelings were, she wondered if she’d get to the next site, throw herself into the next program, or series, or concept, and discover sooner than she could imagine that George was a sweet and erotic memory.

Then she felt his arms come around her, leaned against the solid warmth of him, and knew it wasn’t ever going to be like that.

“I’m in love with you.” The words, spoken aloud, surprised her even as she said them.

“I know,” he said. When she turned and gazed at him, she found all the understanding she could have wished for in his face. He did know.